


Hold the Wheel and Drive

by missmichellebelle



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-16
Updated: 2013-05-16
Packaged: 2017-12-12 00:35:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/805070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missmichellebelle/pseuds/missmichellebelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darren takes them to the PCH, aims north, and just starts driving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hold the Wheel and Drive

It's not something planned.

It's Darren texting Chris in the late afternoon, not even asking if he's busy, just saying, "cancel your plans." For once, Chris doesn't really have any plans to cancel, and he'd sort of loved that. But it's hard to say no to Darren—sometimes, it's even impossible.

So Darren pulls up in front of his house in a car that Chris doesn't recognize and he doesn't answer any questions.

"Who's car is this?" Is the first thing Chris wants to know, but Darren just shrugs and kind of smiles.

"A friend's."

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see."

"Is this a kidnapping?"

"Definite possibility." And then Darren holds out his hand and looks at Chris expectantly. "Can I see your phone?"

Chris immediately gets defensive—his phone is the way he stays in touch with _life_ , he doesn't hand it over to just _anyone_.

Not that Darren is _just anyone_.

"Why?" He asks, suspicious, but Darren just smiles at him.

"Trust me?"

"You're asking a lot," Chris deadpans, before hesitantly removing his phone from his pocket and slipping it into Darren's hand.

Darren then promptly drops it into the side door beside him, and then drops his own in, beside it.

"Wait—"

"No, this is a no phone trip." Darren shifts the car into drive.

"What about music?" Chris asks, a little hysterically.

"Do you see an auxiliary hook-up anywhere in this car?"

Chris doesn't. It's an older car, but it doesn't even have one of those nifty things that let's you play music through the tape deck or cigarette lighter.

"But no fear." Darren reaches behind him without looking, and then drops a CD binder in Chris's lap. "I trust you to make good choices."

"I'm honored," Chris responds dryly, already unzipping it open. He can tell straight away that the CDs are Darren's, if only because most of them are mixes, scrawled across in Sharpie with random titles like _Summer 2005_ in Darren's handwriting. Chris actually brushes his fingers over it fondly. "I didn't know people still had these."

"Do you like to make me feel like I'm super fucking old?" Darren asks around a laugh, and Chris just smiles, before plucking out a CD that says _Trip Mix 2002_.

"No, I just think you're…" Chris isn't sure how to say it. He actually kind of loves it, the way Darren can simultaneously embrace the future but hold onto the past. He loves that he gets to _see_ these things, like it's a special part of Darren he wasn't around to witness but gets to appreciate now. Darren looks at him for a moment, but seems to accept his silence as the perfect way to end the sentence.

What would Chris do if Darren couldn't read his silence?

He pushes the CD into the player. _2002_. Chris quickly does the math—Darren would have only been 15, and Chris was 12. It's kind of crazy to think about.

Chris almost starts laughing as he hears the CD turn and read, before a guitar starts to strum through the speakers. He does laugh then, even as Darren starts to sing and pick up speed.

" _Sometimes I feel the fear of uncertainty stinging clear. And I can't help but ask myself how much I let the fear take the wheel and steer_."

*

Whatever Chris expects, he's wrong.

Darren takes them to the PCH, aims north, and just starts driving. It feels crazy, and dangerous. The windows aren't tinted, and anyone could see them at this time of day. Every stop light they hit makes Chris's heart hammer in his chest, until the 1 has to become the 101 for awhile and jilted highway stops turns to smooth, fast driving.

It's been over an hour, and they've been quiet, except for Darren singing along with every song that plays like he isn't thinking about it.

" _He was the one to hold me the night the sky fell down. And what was I thinking when the world didn't end, why didn't I know what I know now?_ "

Chris grins into his hand, unable to not see the very purposeful pronoun changing that Darren is doing.

"Are we going to Santa Barbara?" Chris asks, confused, but Darren just grins and shakes his head. "Are we actually going somewhere?" Chris pushes, wanting to know.

"What a philosophical question," Darren hums, but he doesn't actually answer. Chris huffs, crosses his arms, and sits back in his chair.

They do stop in Santa Barbara. Darren has to pee, and they get gas, and Chris sits in the car and closes his eyes. He should get up and walk around, because at this point he's kind of set on the idea that Darren is just driving them to San Francisco for some insane reason. Because Darren does insane things like that.

They stop at some pizza place, and there are _way_ too many people close to their age around that Chris stays in the car again. It's still early enough that Darren doesn't look like a pretentious douche wearing sunglasses, and then he's back with a pizza and a big grin on his face.

"Did you really kidnap me for pizza?"

"It's really good pizza. Don't underestimate the pizza." Darren pulls them back onto the narrow streets flooded with bicycles and pedestrians. It makes LA look like a nice place to drive. "But no. The pizza is just a perk."

"Have you been here before?" Chris can't think of a reason Darren would ever be in this particular place, but… There's a lot of things he doesn't know about Darren.

"They have some pretty fantastic Halloween parties. You'll have to come sometime."

Chris laughs, humorlessly.

"Wouldn't we get recognized?"

"Um, no. Everyone is drunk off their ass and in costume. Perfect place to blend in."

"Why drive all the way to Santa Barbara when we have West Hollywood?"

"Why not?" Darren looks at him for a moment, and then turns back to navigating the streets. They don't get back on the freeway, and Chris doesn't answer Darren—he doesn't _have_ an answer.

 _Why not?_ he thinks to himself.

"Are we almost there?" Chris asks instead.

" _And I'm almost there, I'm almost there—_ "

"Is that a yes?" Chris sighs, a little amused but mostly tired of sitting. They've been in the car for _hours_. Which, actually, has been kind of nice. Peaceful, even. They've had easy conversation, but Darren hasn't been incredibly chatty. They've just been listening to music and driving, and it's relaxing, even when Chris's hands start itching with the need to do something (check his email, return a text, make a phone call) and he's forced to accept the fact that he can't.

"That's a yes."

And then Darren reaches across the center console and takes Chris's hand, keeping his eyes on the road, and Chris lets himself sink back into the carseat.

He has no idea what's going on, but he finds himself strangely okay with that.

*

When Darren finally pulls over, it's a nowhere road the runs along the ocean. It's one of those little pockets off on the side, the only thing keeping them from plummeting down a cliff and into the ocean being a guardrail.

"Grab the pizza?" Darren asks, and then gets out of the car. Chris watches him go for a moment, and then is scrambling after him, grabbing the boxes that have been sliding around in the backseat for the last thirty minutes.

Darren has pulled a huge comforter seemingly from nowhere and is spreading it over the hood of the car.

"What are you doing?" He feels the need to ask, even though he has a pretty good idea.

" _We_ are having a picnic." Darren leans across the hood, towards Chris, and pats it. Chris isn't sure how okay he feels with sitting on the hood of a car.

"We drove for over two hours for a picnic?" Chris can't help but be a little amused, and Darren just grins, and shrugs.

"It's hard to find a place like this," Darren explains, walking towards the back of the car where— _ah_ —the trunk is popped. He pulls out a cooler, before thumping it shut.

"A place like what?" Chris looks around. The ocean goes _forever_ , and the sun is sinking lower and lower. It'll set soon. "We live right by the ocean, Dare."

"The ocean is another perk," Darren explains, as he clambers onto the hood of the car. He holds out his hand for Chris, when he notices that Chris isn't making any move to join him. Chris hesitates, but then starts to carefully climb on top of the car beside him. Every time he hears a creak of any sort, he stills—he's terrified of crushing in the engine, or something like that. Can that happen? "I meant a place that's quiet. Do you see anyone around?"

No. It's just them, and there's hardly enough room on the little outlet for another car to stop. He can't hear people, he can't hear cars, he can't hear anything but the sound of the water and the creak of the car and Darren's breathing.

It's almost stifling, it's so quiet, but at the same time, it's wonderful.

It means they are absolutely and completely alone.

"So that's why." Chris gingerly settles, leaning back against where the windshield is, although it's covered with the comforter.

"That's why." Darren reaches for the pizza, flips it open, and then balances the pizza on both of their thighs. "Rudimentary table-slash-plate. Just like the cavemen used to do it."

"Those cavemen and their many uses of the pizza box," Chris jokes, and Darren nudges his side. "Revolutionizing the world."

"Fuck yeah. Look how they domesticated dinosaurs."

"I actually hate you." But Chris laughs, picking up a piece of pizza in his hands—it's greasy, and the cheese feels like it's sliding off. He has to catch it between his teeth, swiping grease and sauce against the corner of his mouth.

"Sexy," Darren purrs from beside him, and Chris rolls his eyes.

"You're lucky you're so cute." Chris doesn't even wait to finish chewing, hand just covering his mouth to stop Darren from staring at a mushed up ball of chewed pizza.

"You love me." Darren opens the cooler, and pulls a can of Diet Coke out of the cooler, pressing it against Chris's thigh. He jerks at how cold it is, but then grabs it happily. Chris is about to set his pizza down, so he can open it, but then Darren's finger is tapping against the top of the can and popping it open. He grins, like he's just accomplished something of merit.

Chris smiles, but softer.

"Oh, I do." Chris takes a swig of the soda, and Darren nudges him playfully. But when Chris thinks about the last few hours, and what Darren did… Chris takes a deep breath, closing his eyes, and just reveling in the sound of the ocean, the press of Darren's shoulder against his, the icy sweat on the Diet Coke can and the heat seeping through the pizza crust and into Chris's fingers. It seems like so little, if Chris thinks about it in its basic components.

But it's so much more than that.

Darren has a mouthful of pizza when Chris grabs his chin and kisses him—a press of lips, a little too hard and a little too quick.

"Wow, ew, that was gross," Chris says on a laugh as he pulls away, and he watches Darren swallow.

"Please never say that after kissing me again, I don't think my ego can stand it."

"Your lips are all pizza greasy, and now my lips are all pizza greasy." Chris drags the back of his hand over his mouth, and Darren is grinning in that way he does when he doesn't want to full out laugh. "Next time I'm waiting until you swallow."

Darren is practically vibrating, he's holding his laugh so hard, and Chris shoves him.

"Shut up."

"Pretty sure you always wait for me to swallow, dear."

"I'm going to push you into the ocean."

"It's cool, I can swim." Darren lays his head on Chris's shoulder, and Chris rolls his eyes, but doesn't retort. They're just quiet together, which is a little rare for them, staring out at the ocean. Chris has only eaten about half of his pizza, but he puts it down in the box anyway, wrapping his now free arm around Darren, who hums appreciatively.

"This feels really cliché," Chris whispers, and Darren laughs again, butting his head under Chris's chin and making him grin.

"Is that your way of saying, _wow Darren, this is so romantic and thoughtful, thank you, you handsome devil, you will be repaid with sex later_."

"Talk about a loaded statement," Chris mutters, and then he feels Darren's lips brush briefly against his neck. "Maybe without the handsome devil part, though."

"Dick. Wait, so yes to the sex part?"

Chris laughs, and presses his nose to Darren's hair.

"I love you, you dork."

He feels Darren's hand curl around his waist and squeeze.

"I love you, too." Darren nuzzles against him and hums, and Chris closes his eyes, smiling. "No, but really, yes to the sex part?"

"Not if you keep ruining the moment."

"Fuck."


End file.
